Conversations with Cenobites
by ZevofB3K
Summary: One shot Angel Hellraiser crossover. Set before Origin and Time Bomb Illyria is bored. Perhaps Pinhead can provde a challenge for her.


Author's Notes: Angel and Illyria belong to Joss Whedon, and all the cenobites belong to Clive Barker. I promise to put both Illyria and Pinhead back on the shelf when I'm done! This takes place before Time Bomb, probably right before Origin, as I'd imagine Illyria with her powers would be a better mix.

As she stood in the middle of the lab with her arms crossed, Illyria wondered why none of the explorative vermin were studying their various liquids and machines. The building had been emptied an hour ago, she knew that much, but cared little about it. While her guide and the half-breeds scurried about the area searching for what had escaped, she was hoping it would come to her. It would be a great challenge compared to the half-breed known as Spike. He was too concerned with writing things on his clipboard and attempting to keep them from her. She had grown bored of being curious about it to the point where his writing no longer mattered to her.

The air was fused with demonic energy rivaling that of her own. It wasn't as strong as hers, of course, but Illyria was eager to meet this creature. She had overheard Wesley talking with the Angel half-breed. Apparently, someone in the artifacts department had solved a puzzle, but now the puzzle had opened a dimension portal, allowing something through. Illyria wondered which dimension, as she had been to all of them and conquered many. There had already been many violent deaths on every floor of the building, and Illyria was hoping for adequate violence, and had been for some time. Her head darted in the direction of the stairs to the empty office, when the walls began to crack and rumble. Glass containers and metal equipment either exploded where they sat or fell off their surfaces, causing chaos. Illyria was enjoying the chaos.

Pale blue light, almost as blue as her eyes, was shining in the doorway, and in the doorway stood a deathly pale man with pins driven into his skull in a grid pattern. "You did not open the box," he half-growled. "However, I sensed the desire. The desire for pain. The desire for suffering,"

As he slowly came down the stairs, Illyria was annoyed by the rustling of his leather garment. A cenobite. In her time, his kind had been below the vampire and Wolf, Ram, and Hart. Now it presumed to speak to her. Still not used to walking as a human, Illyria awkwardly stumbled toward him and shakily held out her hand, tasting his energy through her gloved fingertips. She jerked her head up, her eyes meeting his. A young one, she figured. This one had only been a cenobite for a few decades; hardly a challenge for one as great as her, as his humanity was still quite prominent. "Though you have not been in this dimension for some time, you still reek of humanity," she snapped. "Our conversation ends now. We are done,"

She turned her blue head away from him, and began to walk away. She stopped as a chain shot out of the wall on her left and hooked into the wall on the right, barring her path. It irked her. "Far from it," he rasped. "We have only just begun, and I wish to continue,"

Illyria whirled around in anger. "You dare to stand in my way?" she said. "I am Illyria, Idol of Millions. Your insolence will be punished with-"

"Death?" the cenobite asked flatly beginning to circle around her. "Oh no, you can't kill me, child, I am eternal. I know your mind...this world disappoints you, as it does so many others. They scurry about their pointless lives around you, repeating their routines daily. But none of them ever stop and pay respects to what came before. Yes...I know of what came before. Your kind, once so powerful, is now lost to the spirals of time, with nothing left but an endless plain of dust and bones,"

His circling around her had brought him close to her, as he was now looking down at her again, and she knew that were she not in this particular shell, she would have squashed him where he stood. Illyria tilted her head at him, her usually lifeless blue eyes filled with rage. He annoyed her, and it was time to bring an end to the annoyance. "In my time, your kind merely provided entertainment for the lowest beings to watch, as you tortured and flayed upon our orders. Time has allowed you to grow unaware of your place,"

"Enough debating!" the cenobite boomed. "Just come here and accept fate as it is!"

Illyria simply reached out and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up with ease. "I decline," she said.

She then threw him into the wall, denting it with his more dense demon body. She reveled in the fact that this would cause more destruction than the bodies of the half-breeds or her guide. The cenobite began to slide down the wall but righted himself without collapsing, and glared at her. He flicked his wrist, summoning chains, that she simply waved her own palm at, and altered their flow of time, allowing her to move aside.

When the cenobite regained his bearings, he couldn't find her anywhere. He walked toward the center of the room, knowing that she couldn't have fled. Her kind's nature wouldn't allow it. "Where are you, Old One?" he shouted. "Delaying your fate will only make your pain more legendary in Hell,"

He turned around to see the blue goddess staring blankly at him. She stuck him with the back of her fist, only to aggravate him further. He may have allowed her first attack to catch him off-guard, but now he knew what to expect. He had never been hit by any of his victims before, and it angered him. He bestowed pain upon others; he didn't endure it. He chuckled. "Fists. Words. Memories of what you once were," he said. "All superficial methods of overcoming your enemies. Infantile behavior for one such as yourself, do you not agree?"

Illyria tilted her head. "This is hypocrisy. It tastes like rotten fruit,"

She took another swing at him, but he vanished and reappeared on the far side of the room. "Oh, Old One," he retorted, daring to get closer to the angry God-King. "You have earned yourself the eternity you desire. I will reap your soul slowly in return for your spirited behavior. I believe you will be my finest work,"

He summoned another chain, aimed at her forehead, but it merely bounced off and fell limply to the floor. She then kicked him in the chin, knocking him backwards. "This shell was hardened in my rebirth, cenobite," Illyria boasted. "Your efforts are flawed,"

She bent down and grabbed him by the throat, holding him above her head. "You shatter like glass," she said, staring up at him. "Even time and dust fail to move in your presence. Your head is no more than an overripe grape to me. I could squash it whenever I please,"

The doors to the office burst open, and Wesley scrambled in holding a wooden box. She regarded his presence, and with her free hand opened a dark portal. She unceremoniously tossed the overly-confident cenobite through it, and closed the portal behind him. "He was not the dangerous creature of which you spoke," she announced. "He was merely a narcissistic echo of what was once our favorite variety of clown,"

"Illyria, that was the demon Xipe Totec!" said Wesley. "He cannot be destroyed so easily as to-"

She pushed past him and continued walking toward the door. "I sent him to his rightful dimension," she interjected forcefully. "I could have snapped his back like a wet leaf, had I not pitied him. Come, I wish to pummel the half-breed some more. The crisis is over,"

Wesley looked around at the lab as she left him, seeing the chains that hung from the ceiling, and the large dent in the wall. He looked down to see the broken glass crunching under his feet. He shrugged, relieved that the new windows had at least survived the confrontation. The box in his hand slowly melded itself back into its original configuration, since there was no demon around to feed its power. Angel stepped into the lab, looking around, with a sword ready. "You can put that down," said Wesley. "It seems that the problem has already been dealt with,"

"Wes, what the hell happened in here?" Angel asked.

"Hell, apparently," said Wesley. "And Illyria... ironically, it's hard to tell which is worse,"

End


End file.
